Maternity Leave
by Silver Spider
Summary: In the last months of her life, Taylor Corbet reexamines her beliefs. The human side to the story of the Nephilim and fallen angels. Part III of III.
1. First Trimester

**_Author's Note:_** So like I said before, this story is about Taylor, Aaron's mother, and will be pretty angelic stuff free until closer to the end of the story. Again, it's a three part fic, one for every trimester right up to the time of Aaron's birth. I spent the last three stories on the angelic and Nephilim side of the Fallen series, but what seems to always end up being forgotten is that there is a human component to the story on many levels. First the Nephilim of course have human mothers but also without the creation of humanity there wouldn't be any fallen angels. I think the human element is essential to this story so that's what I'm going to explore here. Read Author's End Note for more thoughts.

**Maternity Leave**

**By: Silver Spider**

**First Trimester**

If he was asked about his very first memory, before the insane stuff about fallen angels and prophesies entered his life, Aaron would have said that it was the day he entered his very first foster home. He was a bit older than three, but the image of the crowded townhouse in the bad neighborhood was vivid in his mind. There were screaming children everywhere, and it smelled like rotting pizza. Once he'd stumbled over the front steps and scraped his knee. The foster mother didn't even notice, and it was hours before one of the older kids roughly grabbed his hand and dragged him to the kitchen for a bandage. The scrape had never even gotten cleaned. At age three, he had thought that that place was Hell and continuously wondered what terrible thing he had done to deserve it.

Fifteen years later, Aaron finally understood exactly what Hell was.

All those images and emotions resurfaced with a vengeance as the red fog that was his father's punishment swirled around him, forcing ever painful emotion to assault his senses. And when the first wave of his own memories was over, he was hit yet again with the images of the War in Heaven, the desperation of Lucifer and his soldiers, the disappointment and sadness of God. Aaron feel to his knees, doubling over in pain. He felt like vomiting, anything to expel the images and emotions from his head. Yet somehow amidst the chaos, another memory entered his mind, one that Aaron couldn't quite place.

A warm feeling enveloped him, and Aaron suddenly recalled a hazy image of a woman's face smiling down at him. How beautiful she was and how much she loved him. It was almost palpable. Aaron wanted to tell her that he loved her too, but no sound came out. Confused, he brought his hand to his mouth, and that was also when he felt wetness on his face. Was it raining? No, it was the woman…She was crying, and Aaron couldn't help but wonder why someone so wonderful should be sad.

* * *

_19 years earlier_,

Taylor Corbet had always had a rather straight-forward outlook on life. Having been raised in a typical middle class family in the North East, she had her value system pretty well established by her teens; work hard, enjoy the good things in life, learn from your mistakes, but don't dwell too long on anything negative. She thought that the simple philosophy proved quite effective for her, even after she got her heart broken.

Two weeks was far too long to dwell on what had admittedly been the most amazing six months in her life. She hesitated to call it a relationship because when one didn't anything but the most basic details of her lover's life, there was no rush to place any labels. It was enough to know that they had been happy. At least, she thought they were.

Either way, lying in bed and watching soap operas was not her style, so when she found herself waking up still feeling lethargic at ten on a Tuesday morning, Taylor was more than a little surprised. She yawned and stretched, silently cursing the colder mid-October weather. Massachusetts was always pretty miserable this time of year, making the prospect of getting out from under warm covers not at all appealing.

Before she could consider whether or not she wanted to salvage half the work day or simply call in sick, the phone on her desk rang. If it was her boss, Taylor was determined to say she was sick. She had no intention of admitting that she overslept. A second ring sounded which was accompanied by a bark at the bedroom door. Brandy was demanding breakfast, and now Taylor really felt guilty for oversleeping. She opened the door, and the golden retriever was instantly inside the room, sniffing every corner for food. When she found none, the dog looked up at Taylor with big brown questioning eyes.

"I know, I'm very sorry. I'll be down there in five minutes. Promise." said the woman patted the dog's head affectionately and reached for the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey, I called your work phone. What are you doing still at home?" Taylor smiled at the voice of her best friend, Karen.

"Would you believe it if I told you I just got out of bed?" Taylor admitted sheepishly.

"You?" she could imagine the look of surprise on her friend's face. "Ok, you know what, I knew things were bad, but I didn't think you'd actually go that far."

"What? No, I just overslept," she tried to defend herself, but Karen cut her off.

"I don't wanna hear it. I'm coming over there right now, and we're having a proper girl's day out. We haven't done anything fun since you hooked up with what's-his-face."

"Hooked up? What am I, sixteen?"

"Ah! Don't argue with me. I'll be there in twenty. You can decide where you want to go for lunch in the meantime."

* * *

"I tell you men are dogs," Karen said thoughtfully chewing on a French fry. "Easier to just switch teams and forget all about them"

Taylor shook her head and chuckled. She knew her friend was trying to make her feel better, but she didn't have to be so conspicuous about it. Though she could have very well gone to work today, the truth was that that Taylor really wasn't feeling well. Even after a shower and a cup of coffee, she still felt increadibly tired. But Karen was trying, and she supposed there was no harm in getting out for a bit. Now it was past twelve, and they stopped for lunch at their favorite diner. Their joint plate of fries had just arrived, and now the women were waiting for their respective meals.

"It's no use, Karen," she sighed. "There's no point for you to be mad at him if I'm over it. Which I am, by the way. Over it, that is."

"Yeah sure," the other woman rolled her eyes. "Two weeks, and you act like the past six months of your life were just a dream. I had bad romance novels that I was pining over for longer."

"Well, that's you," Taylor shrugged. "I try not to be as dramatic. It was nice while it lasted, but when the guy disappears in the middle of the night without as much as a word, the message is kinda loud and clear."

"If you say so," her friend didn't sound like she believed her at all, but didn't get a chance to argue because the waiter arrived with their food.

"One chicken César salad for you, ma'am," he put the plate in front of Karen. "And one burger, cooked rare with extra pickle for you."

Taylor nodded her thanks, and was about to take a bite of her food when she noticed Karen staring at her. "What?"

"I know you're depressed," she said, "but greasy food isn't going to make you feel better. Since when do you eat raw meet anyway?"

"I don't know," Taylor shrugged. "Just felt like it... is that chicken?"

"Yeah, it's really good too," the other woman chewed and picked up another piece with her fork. "Want one?"

Taylor felt the pit of her stomach churn as soon as the smell of grilled chicken and dressing reached he nose. She couldn't explain why, but the scent was absolutely revolting. Her stomach protested again, and she turned her head away from the offensive food, leaning heavily on her elbows and trying to catch her breath without vomiting up what little food she'd eaten. When she finally looked up, Karen was holding out a glass of water which Taylor took gratefully.

"Are you okay?" her friend asked in concern. "Was it spoiled?"

Taylor shook her head, only half hearing the question. He mind scrambled to piece things together, and she mentally counted backwards. _Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fourty-seven…_ It made sense: the fatigue, the strange order, the sick feeling in her stomach… "Karen," for the first time in the entire day, her expression was absolutely serious. "I think I'm pregnant."

* * *

Not surprisingly any plans for a movie were quickly canceled and replaced with a trip to the pharmacy. Taylor had wanted to return home by herself, but Karen insisted on coming with her, saying that under the circumstances it was probably best if there was someone with her when she read the results. Taylor agreed, but deep down she knew there was no need for it. She already knew what the test was going to say.

"How long do we have to wait?" she asked leaning on her desk and absently stroking Brandy's soft fur.

"Well, it's supposed to be a pretty accurate test," Karen flipped over the box and read the instructions. "It's ten minutes total, so about three more minutes to go. You know, there's always the morning after pill…"

"That generally means that it has to be taken the morning after the fact," Taylor snapped.

"Jeeze, don't kill the messenger," the other woman put up her hands defensively. "I thought you mentioned that you're on the pill, anyway?"

"I am," Taylor pulled back her long dark hair and put it up in a pony tail, "but even those things aren't always a hundred percent perfect."

Karen was silent for a moment. "Maybe you don't even have anything to worry about. You probably just ate something bad."

Taylor shrugged, inclined to indulge her friend. A second later the timer in the bathroom rang, and Karen looked at her. "You want me to look?" When she didn't respond, the other woman took it as affirmation and went into the bathroom to pick up the test. She turned it over and, trying to hide her surprise, looked back at her. "Taylor, it's…"

"Positive," it wasn't a question.

**_Author's End Note:_** I also have to say that I really love Taylor. We saw really little of her in the series, just some stuff through Lucifer's memories, but she really intrigued me. One thing that I think you definitely don't want to do if you're writing something about the mother of a messiah is to make her a clone of the Virgin Mary. I love Taylor because she is probably the most human character in the series. She has this semi-serious, semi-sarcastic attitude that tells of a woman who has a fair amount of self-confidence. I never think of her as naive but she is clearly very trusting if she allowed herself to fall in love with a stranger, who was probably less than completely open with her. And if you think about it, it really makes sense for this storyline. Because what was Lucifer punished for: rebelling against God, yes, but more specifically the root of that rebellion was his jealousy of humanity. Does it not then makes sense that he's on his way to redemption when he learns to love a human? And it makes no sense to make that woman a saint. She has to be as human as everyone else, which I think Taylor really was.


	2. Second Trimester

**_Author's Note:_** I should probably warn you that this part of the story mentions a controversial subject matter for some people. There's more on my reasons for adding this here in the Author's End Note. Feel free to review, but flames about this particular subject will be ignored.

**Second Trimester**

It was amazing how quickly four months managed to pass without notice. Well, that wasn't entirely true. The cool wet fall had turned into a bitter cold winter with more snow than the New England area had seen in many years. Her neighbor's son returned from college for winter break and promptly managed to get into trouble. Her boss got moved to an office closer to the city, which meant that soon there would be a replacement, one that she hoped might actually turn out to be a human being. As for Taylor herself, the four months were a bit hazy beyond the rim of her toilet.

She heard that morning sickness sometimes lasted past the first trimester, but it was getting more than a little ridicules. As if morning sickness wasn't bad enough, she quickly discovered that there was very little food that her stomach – or was it her unborn child? - tolerated. In the first three months, she'd actually managed to loose weight rather than gain it, and though it had slowly started to build back up as her lower stomach gained a slight but ever growing curve, eating was not the easiest of activates.

What worried her wasn't so much her own health, but the fact that she didn't _feel_ pregnant. If it wasn't for the small bump, Taylor would have sworn that she really had eaten something bad and had a toxin she couldn't get rid of. Though still tiny, her doctor had told her that she should have started to feel the baby move a few weeks ago. He had described it as nothing more than a flutter, but Taylor hadn't felt a thing, and it was cause for concern. That or her hormones had gotten the best of her yet again, something that seemed to happen quite frequently recently.

Times like this, Taylor really missed her mother. She'd died of cancer several years ago, leaving a small financial inheritance as well as the house Taylor currently lived in to her daughter. Abigail Corbet was a good woman, tough but caring, and Taylor would have given anything for her to be with here now, if only to have a little support. Luckily Karen had been a good friend to her, coming to see her nearly ever day which cheered her up.

As if on cue, the door bell rang which was quickly accompanied buy Brandy's barking. Taylor quickly headed downstairs to open the door, glaring at the dog, who just didn't understand the concept that not everyone who was outside of the house was a stranger. For a moment she paused. Did Brandy behave better when _he_ was there? Taylor was sure she had.

"Alright," Karen was inside as soon as Taylor opened the door, pulling off her hat and scarf and tapping her winter boots against the doormat. "I brought 'Roman Holiday' and 'Breakfast at Tiffany's.' Plus," she held up a bag of groceries. "Chips and tea. Strange combination, but hey, who am I to question pregnancy cravings."

Taylor smiled, taking the tapes from her friend and crossed the living room to squat by the TV, fiddling with the VCR. "Just put them down on the coffee table, and I'll take care of the movie."

"You look good," Karen commented as she hung up her coat. "You gain some weight?"

"Thanks," Taylor called over her shoulder sarcastically. "That's just what every pregnant woman wants to hear."

"Hey, that was supposed to be a compliment considering the first few months. How are you feeling, by the way?"

"Honestly?" she got up with a sigh, resting one hand against the TV. "I feel like shit. I'm exhausted _all_ the time, and I think it just might make life easier if I set up permanent residence in the bathroom."

"Oh, hon, I'm so sorry," Karen sat down on the couch and waited for Taylor to sink onto the other end. "You know, I hate to even say this," she chose her words carefully, "let alone sound like I'm suggesting it, but you do know it's not to late for the big 'A'."

Taylor took a deep breath, but didn't act too surprised or angry at the idea. "I can't admit I haven't thought of it," she answered honestly, her voice quiet. "And I know like I should feel guilty about it, but a part of me wonders if maybe it isn't such a horrible option. This doesn't feel real to me, Karen. I read all this stuff that pregnant women are supposed to have this... glow about them, but all I feel is sick."

The other woman nodded sympathetically. "All I can say is that I won't think of you any less if you do. If I had to put up with all the crap you do, I think I would have gone crazy by now."

"Don't think that hadn't occurred to me," Taylor laughed. "I don't know. I think I might stick it out for another week, and if things get really bad..." she trailed off.

"Can I ask you something?" Karen pulled a leg underneath her. "Now, please don't get mad before considering it: are you going through all this because you really want a baby now or because it's _his_ child?"

"Karen!"

"I'm just saying," the woman held up her hands in self-defense. "He may have been the spawn of Hell from my point of view, but he was still this great love of your life. I know you don't like to dwell on things, but you do still love him. At least admit that much to yourself. Come on, you're twenty-seven. Hardly an old maid. If you really wanted to move on, you can get any guy you want."

"And what, prey tell, does that have to do with my baby?" Taylor's tone sounded dangerously low, and when Taylor Corbet was angry, everyone usually ran for cover.

"Because of who that baby's father is," her friend stated calmly. "You know full well that if you have that child, you'll never get over him."

Taylor was silent, knowing that her friend's words were true. Without thinking, her hand came down to gently rest against the small bump on her lower abdomen. "Despite all of this," she said quietly, her gaze downcast, "it's kind of comforting. Like having a part of him back here with me. I know it's not fair to the baby for me to think that way, but it's true."

She raised her eyes to her friend, and Karen saw the very beginning of tears threatening to spill out. "Guess, I'm kind of masochistic that way."

"You're not," her friend took her hand and squeezed it assuringly. "You can't help being in love."

Taylor nodded and quickly flickered away the tears with the back of her hand. "At least," she reasoned. "When my kid asks, I'll be able to honestly say I loved his or her father."

She stopped, suddenly bolting to her feat, her eyes wide in surprise. For a moment, Taylor stood perfectly still, hoping that she hadn't imagined it, but when the small fluttering sensation in the pit of her belly came again, she let out a shriek of excitement. Karen stared at her in bewilderment.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Taylor laughed. "I just felt the baby move!"

* * *

To Taylor's own surprise, the following week before her checkup went surprisingly well. She was still incredibly sick more often then not, but at least her appetite was slowly but surly returning as her belly began to grow in earnest. But it was during her checkup that she got the biggest surprise yet.

"How'd it go?" Karen asked when a beaming Taylor stepped out of the doctor's office.

"Fine," she smiled. "Doc even thinks he know what it is."

"See, I always knew there was something off about that boyfriend of yours," her friend joked. "So what planet does he hail from?"

"Ha ha, very funny," Taylor gave her a look. "Baby's perfectly normal. Ten fingers and ten toes. At least that's what the nurse said all that static on the ultrasound screen was. I mean, they think they know the gender."

"Well, don't keep me in suspense," Karen prompted. "Am I bringing blue or pink to the baby shower?"

"Thankfully, not pink," Taylor grinned. "I'm having a boy."

* * *

When she got home at half past eight, her bed was starting to look particularly appealing. Karen somehow managed to drag her shopping, and now several bags worth of baby clothes littered the living room couch. She briefly entertained the idea of taking the time to put them away but quickly decided that it could wait till morning. Between getting Brandy her dinner, trying to eat something herself, and taking a shower, it would be at least ten before she could actually fall asleep.

To her surprise, she managed to get everything done within an hour, and by nine thirty, Taylor was already in her nightgown. Deciding that a half hour of reading wouldn't hurt, she wandered over to the bookshelf in the corner of her bedroom.

"Okay, let's see what we've got here," Taylor mused as her eyes scanned over the books on the shelf. "I don't know how many children's books I still have, but I promise I'll get some more by the time you decide to grace me with your presence," she told her unborn child.

Her eyes came to rest on a dusty Bible, she picked it up for a moment before thinking better of it and putting the text back on the shelf. "I won't bore you with that stuff," she promised. "I'm sure someone at some point will torture you with it, but for now, let's stick with something a less fire-and-brimstone, okay? Just be a good kid, and you'll be covered. How about this?"

Taylor leaned down, now with slight difficulty, and pulled out a copy of "Peter Pan" from the bottom shelf. "I think this is more age-appropriate. You'll like it. It's about a boy who could fly."

**_Author's End Note:_** I realize the topic of abortion is very sensitive for some people. Personally, I'm 100 pro-choice. I don't know whether or not I would get one if I ever found myself with an unwanted pregnancy, but I believe it is up to each woman to decide whether or not she wants to get an abortion. As a license plate I saw says, "keep your laws off my body." In this particular case, I think Taylor's reasons were perfectly legitimate. She wasn't a teenager who made a mistake she's trying to get rid of. Her body wasn't handling the pregnancy well at all (as Zeke mentioned in the first Fallen book often happened to the mothers of Nephilim) and she was facing all of this without any support aside from her friend. So don't be too quick to condemn her.  
As for the whole not-reading-the-Bible, I never thought of Taylor as a particularly religious person. Again, it goes with the whole thing about her being human and not saint-like. I'm pretty sure that an average mother-to-be would also be reading fairy tales to her baby instead of something as heavy as the Bible.  
The next and last part of the story is much darker, as you can expect, and will touch on the angelic stuff. Till then.


	3. Third Trimester

**_Author's Note:_** We're just one week away from the mini-series coming out! Yay! A few sidenotes. ABC Family has dedicated a part of their main site to Fallen. There's a forum and pictures and such there, so go check it out. On the Fallen RPG (which everyone is invited to) to which I have a link in my profile, my friend Erek posted some awesome icons, so go see those too. Ok so this part is a little longer than the other two. I have more commentary in the end.

**Third Trimester**

It was a perfectly square sandbox lined with pieces of identical strips of wood on each side. The yellow sand that lay about ankle deep was not the ordinary kind one would expect to find in the playground. Rather it felt like t came directly from the ocean. It even smelled salty. There were no toys, but nonetheless a boy of no more then four or five sat on the edge, idly doodling in the sand with a stick.

"What've you got there, munchkin?" Taylor squatted behind him, thankful that at least in her reams there was no seven months pregnant belly to get in her way.

"I'm drawing a picture," though he didn't turn his head, she could hear the smile in his voice. "Wanna see?"

"Sure," placing a hand on his shoulder, she leaned over and peered at the crude drawing in the sad. She expected to see nothing more than random lines, maybe a few shapes, but the picture before her was more defined. She couldn't make out quite what it was, but there was a something about it that was unmistakable: the outline of a pair of wings.

"Is that a bird?" the child just laughed as if the suggestion was the silliest thing in the world.

"No," he shook his dark locks.

"A… dragon?"

"Nope."

"Okay, I give up," Taylor surrendered. "What is it?"

The boy giggled again and slowly turned his head towards her. That was when Taylor finally saw his face, or more specifically, his eyes. Like twin black whirlpools. Just like his father's. Without realizing it, she shot to her feat and took an involuntary step back. The boy also rose, not seeming to mind her sudden change in behavior, and smiled.

"It's an angel," he said, and something about his voice sounded strangely different.

Taylor felt her heart pound as she shot up in bed, her forehead drenched in a sheen of sweat. It took her a minute to regain her breath as she managed to sit up more or less properly with a pillow propped behind her back. The alarm clock on her nightstand blinked 2:46 a.m., and she reached over to turn on the light to the lowest setting, before burring her face in her hands to try and compose herself.

Why did she have that dream? It was more than just a collection of random images. She'd never had a dream that was so vivid or fresh in her mind when she awoke. Taylor could still smell the salt from the sand and feel the softness of her son's hair against her fingertips. Yes, there was no doubt in her mind that the boy in the dream was her unborn son.

It wasn't the fact that she'd dreamed about him that bothered her. In the last month, as the idea of motherhood was becoming more and more real, Taylor often thought about what it would be like. First words, first day of kindergarten, first trip to the zoo, but in all her dreams she was always one step ahead of the game. It was her subconscious, after all, and Taylor was usually pretty good about distinguishing the dream world from reality. What surprised her this time was that she had no idea what the boy was drawing let alone why he was drawing it. As if he wasn't part of her subconscious at all. As if he had a mind of his own.

"If you've got something to tell me," she rubbed a palm over the now impressive bulge on her belly. "You can wait till you learn to talk. 'Kay, little man? I've been pretty good about all this so far, but I draw the line at ominous dreams. Now what say we both get back to sleep?"

Though not yet born, the baby had already developed some patterns that Taylor could keep track of. When she slept, so did he, which meant minimal movement and therefore rest for her. Right before a meal, when she was starting to feel hungry, her son was particularly aggressive, demanding the food. Taylor turned off the light and rolled to her other side, feeling the child shift within her, and tried to find a more comfortable position letting sleep overtake her once again.

Unfortunately the blissful oblivion didn't last. The second time Taylor awoke, pain was shooting up her lower back and through her abdomen. She clutched her stomach, barely able to breath, but when the pain stopped a moment after it began, it was as if nothing ever happened. Taylor sat up, confused. What was that? It couldn't have possibly been a contraction. She was only seven months along. Granted, her child was slightly bigger than was expected at this stage, and first babies did arrive early sometimes, but seven months was just too soon.

_It's probably just cramps_, she though, swinging her legs to the side of the bed. _I must've fallen asleep in a bad position, and pinched a nerve somewhere. Maybe if I get up for a moment, it'll pass._

She slipped on a robe over her nightgown, not bothering to tie the sash and wandered down the stairs. Brandy was fast asleep by the front door. _Faithfully guarding the house, I see_, Taylor snickered to herself, before heading towards her kitchen. She opened the fridge and pulled out the half-gallon of milk, puring it into the glass that stood on the counter. It never made it to her mouth.

The glass shattered, spilling milk all over the linoleum floor, and her own legs buckled. _Too soon! It's too soon!_

* * *

Voices. Chatter and yelling, all mixed in with the sound of rolling wheels. A dim light overhead that occasionally got blurred by a face in a white mask looking down. So much confusion. 

"Miss Corbet? Can you hear me? You're at a hospital."

_A hospital? Why?_

"How far along are you? We think you've gone into premature labor."

_What does that mean?_

"Miss Corbet?"

_Go away..._

The voices of doctors and nurses only bothered her. Taylor would have given anything to disappear into the dark oblivion of her dreams, where nothing was ever loud or confusing or painful. These people were trying to keep her focused on the real world when all she wanted to do was rest, but something in the back of her mind kept calling out to her. It was a kinder voice, soft yet insistent.

"Mom."

In the darkness that was her mind, Taylor turned and opened her eyes. It wasn't a child that she saw this time, but a young man, probably a few years under twenty. And if her son's child version had his fathers eyes, there was definitely no denying it now. Then he smiled, and Taylor couldn't help but be reminded of her lover yet again.

"Didn't I tell you not to do this?" she asked in an annoyed tone that one would use when scolding a small child.

"You did," to her surprise he agreed, "and I'm sorry, but I had to see you." He looked down as if afraid of continuing the thought, but then met her gaze once more. "I'm not going to be able to remember any of this. Funny thing about still being in the womb is you've got all the knowledge of the world, but as soon as you're out in it, every thing's a complete _tabula rasa_. It means blank slate."

"I know what it means," Taylor replied indignantly, folding her arms. "How do I know you're not a figment of my imagination?"

The young man just smiled and shrugged. "You'll just have to trust me. Look, I don't have much time left. I just wanted to tell you," he took a step forward then stopped, once again deciding how to put his thoughts into words. "I just wanted to say, don't be scared. In the end, it'll all turn out okay."

He suddenly crossed the distance between them in one long stride and pulled her into a hug. "I love you, Mom," he whispered, "and I'm very sorry."

He pulled back before Taylor had a chance to respond and began to fade into the darkness. Recovering her wits, she stared at the disappearing figure of her son. "Wait," she called to him, and he paused, glancing back at her over his shoulder. "What's all this about angels?"

Her eyes opened to the bright lights of the delivery room, and Taylor found herself in bed, in a white hospital gown. Her dark hair was a sweaty mess, strands plastered over her neck and shoulders , and she felt incredibly weak, as if her heart could give out at any moment. There were a few nurses in the room, constantly checking some sort of equipment and glancing at her in concern every few minutes. Aside from the doctor standing at the foot of the bed reading her chart, she thought she also spotted another man. He too was dressed in a white doctor's coat, but there was something about him that unnerved her. Though he was clearly standing in the middle of the room, nurses walked past him as if there was no one there. Before she could ask, the doctor stepped to the side of the bed and looked down at her.

"How are you feeling, Miss Corbet?" the elder man asked.

"Like someone rammed a sharp needle down my spine," she replied, still barely able to keep her eyes open. "Please tell me this is just false labor and I don't have to push a human being through my body tonight."

"I'm afraid you do," she opened her mouth to protest, but the doctor continued. "We've given you a drug that was supposed to slow down the contractions, but I'm afraid it hasn't worked. Now, I don't want you to be alarmed. The baby is coming, but he's a very descent size for this stage of pregnancy, so I believe his chances are good. You're about nine centimeters dilated, so it'll be time to push soon."

Not having the strength to argue, she sank back onto the pillow and turned her head to look outside. It was still dark, but the barest glimmer of light could be seen on the horizon. This would be the dawn that greeted her son as he entered this world. Taylor would have thought it was poetic if another series of contractions hadn't hit her. She shut her eyes and tried to breath through the pain.

* * *

It was incredible. The doctor and nurses were baffled, saying that they hadn't seen anything like it before. A child that by all norms was supposed to spend at least two and a half more months in the womb was born perfectly healthy, with all vital organs fully functional, and of descent weight and size. Taylor didn't care about the miracle behind it. Her son was alright, and even though she was exhausted, there was a wonderful sense of euphoria. They washed the baby, who protested rather loudly, and placed him in a small cradle by her bed.

She couldn't take her eyes off hum. He was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. All the months of sleepless nights and bathroom visits were more than worth it. Taylor wanted to hold him, but the nurse had advised her against it. In her drained state, there was a chance she wouldn't be strong enough. So for now she was content to just lay on her side and watch him squirm and gurgle. Taylor yawned, and remembered that she was under orders to get some sleep. She needed rest if she wanted to get out of the hospital soon, and after getting over the trauma of being born, her son would demand to be fed. Reluctantly turning on her back, she made herself comfortable, but before she had the chance to fall asleep, Taylor saw a man sitting in a chair across the room.

It was the same man she saw when she was brought into delivery, she recalled, the one that didn't seem to belong. Now that she got a better look at him, that feeling only grew stronger. He was dressed in a typical doctor's coat, with dark curls tumbling to the nape of his neck, and watched her carefully with piercing green eyes. Taylor shivered.

"You're not a doctor, are you?" The man stood, and for a second, Taylor could see beyond the physical appearance, and images of armor made of light and wings the color of coal flashed in her mind. She blinked, and everything returned to normal. "Let me guess," sarcasm was heavy in Taylor's voice. "You're an angel."

"An archangel, yes," he corrected. "My name is Michael."

"Wonderful. First this one," she looked at the tiny bed where her son lay warped up in a light blue cloth, "and now you."

"The child... spoke to you?"

"I know it sounds crazy, but yeah he did, before he was born."

"What did he say?" the question was asked calmly, as if what she'd just said was perfectly normal.

Taylor stared at him, wondering why she was telling this to a perfect stranger – and clearly a crazy one at that – but something compled her to continue. "He said he was sorry, and that everything would turn out okay. Does that have something to do with why you're here?"

"Yes," the archangel agreed. "I am here to bring you home, Taylor Corbet."

It didn't take her long to understand his meaning. "I am going to die," it wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Your death is unfortunate, Taylor Corbet, but also necessary."

"Why? Why would you separate me from my son?" she demanded, fighting back tears. "Why would you allow him to be left alone here?"

"If you are allowed to remain with him, they will come, and they will kill you both."

" 'They'?"

"The Powers."

"Gee, that's helpful," but she didn't want to know who the Powers were or why this man seemed to think they were after her child. The world began to feel hazy, and Taylor realized that she was incredibly tired. Suddenly the truth of his words seemed undeniable. She really was going to die. "He's just a baby..."

"He is much more than that," the archangel shook his head. "He is the One, a messiah to all fallen angels."

Taylor didn't have a clue what he was talking about, but considered the statement nonetheless. "No."

"No?" If it was possible, the archangel looked surprised.

"I may not have read my Bible from cover to cover, but I know that messiahs don't usually end well."

"His life will not be easy, that is true," Michael agreed, "but you cannot imagine how much good, how much hope he will bring to my fallen brethren."

"I don't care about angels!" she balled her firsts at her sides.

"Do you care about that child's father?" the archangel raised an inquisitive brow. "He is among those to be saved." The statement silenced her instantly. "Does that convince you?"

Wordlessly, Taylor nodded. There was no logical reason why she should suddenly believe in angels or prophesies, but with the mention of her lover, everything suddenly fell into place. Her muscles relaxed as she accepted the inevitable truth. "Let me hold him."

"Of course." The angel moved towards the crib and carefully picked up the newborn, placing him gently into his mother's arms. Taylor cradled her son as best as she could and leaned down to kiss his forehead, tears streaming down her face and falling onto the crown of her baby's head. Clearly startled by the new sensation, the boy opened his eyes to stare at her in confusion. There was no about about it: he was definitely his father's son.

"Now listen to me," she whispered so that only he could here. "I know you won't remember this, but maybe you'll be able to feel it in your heart. I love you so much, Aaron," the name suddenly came to her, "and I am very sorry for leaving you, but I'll do anything to keep you safe. When you meet your daddy, tell him that I still love him, okay? Can you do that for me?" She couldn't seem to keep from crying. "I'll watch over you, I promise."

"It is time to go, Taylor Corbet," she reluctantly handed the child back to the angel.

"Would you... would you make sure they name him what I asked?" she inquired, and Michael nodded. "Thank you."

And as the world slowly faded to black, she fealty no pain, only anxiety about the future her son faced. The last thing Taylor saw before the darkness consumed her, was her precious child, peacefully asleep in his crib.

* * *

_19 years later,_

None of the cemetery's few visitors saw him, but suddenly there he was. A young man just over eighteen stood at a gravestone and placed a single white lily at the top of the marker.

_Taylor Corbet_

_1959-1986_

_Dearest Friend, Beloved Mother_

"_May you fly on angel's wings"_

Wordlessly, he rested his hand against the cold stone and shivered in the wind of the New England autumn. Closing his eyes, he listened for a moment, tuning out all sounds of the world around him. He had been trying for a months to recall the image of her face that came to him within the deadly red fog that was Hell, but nothing seemed to work. He had hoped that perhaps this place might help.

The sound of footsteps echoed on the ground, and he tried to ignore them, but quickly realized that they were heading his way. Before he could turn and see who it was, he heard a woman's voice. "You're Aaron, right? Taylor's kid."

He turned and saw that it was indeed a woman somewhere in her mid forties. She was dressed in a long coat and also healed a bouquet of flowers.

"Yeah," he nodded, looking back at the headstone. "How'd you know?"

"You look just like her," the woman smiled. "Except for..."

"My eyes. Yeah, I know."

"Right," she extended her hand. "I'm Karen. I was a friend of your mom's."

"Nice to meet you," Aaron shook her hand politely.

"She was an amazing person," Karen offered. "I'm sorry you didn't get a chance to know her."

Aaron sighed, closing his eyes, and letting the wind play through his dark hair that had become quite untamed recently. "I think I did know her," he whispered. "At least for a moment.**_  
_**

**_Author's End Notes:_** Though I know that it is a general rule that mother's of Nephilim don't make it, Taylor's death in particular was of great importance. In the books, when Belphegor told Verchiel that Aaron was Lucifer's son, Verchiel swore up and down that any woman who was ever with Lucifer was killed. Clearly a higher power protected Taylor during her pregnancy, but once Aaron was born apparently all bets were off. I do feel very sorry for her. To me she was never just simply the woman who gave birth to the fallen's messiah. Lucifer obviously loved her, therefore she was also part of the prophesy. If I get around to writing that AU fic, I'll get a chance to explore both her and Lucifer much further. Till then, my friends, and please review.


End file.
